


Something Borrowed, Something True

by Tamari



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Betaed, F/M, Fake Dating, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, It's a little wild, Language, Mutual Pining, One-sided Draco/Rigel, POV Outsider, Rigel Black Exchange, Ruse Reveal, [stefon voice] this fic has everything, just go with it, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27257173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamari/pseuds/Tamari
Summary: The Marriage Law algorithm disrupts Riddle's plans, pairing Harriet Potter with the most obstinate Dark Heir: Caelum Lestrange. But Caelum and Harry hatch a plan to make the best of a sticky situation. Knowing Harry's luck, there might be a few complications...
Relationships: Harriet Potter | Rigel Black/Caelum Lestrange
Comments: 53
Kudos: 300
Collections: Rigel Black Exchange Round 2





	1. Something Borrowed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tsume_Yuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsume_Yuki/gifts).



> For Tsume, based off two of your prompts and your list of liked tropes! I hope you enjoy it. This started off as a Riddle oneshot and then grew completely out of proportion.  
> Also fills several other Caelum/Harry requests. Give the people what they want, I say.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, PrettyPinkCupcake!

“My lord, there’s been a slight hiccup.”

“What do you mean, a _hiccup?_ ” Riddle said in his most dangerous tone, the one that regularly sent fully-grown men cowering to the floor.

Rookwood flinched, looking down at the binder he held and flipping through notes. “The algorithm functioned as intended, pairing up witches and wizards for optimum offspring in terms of magical power and health, as well as considering personal compatibility." He glanced up again. "But it appears some of your intended matches… were overridden by the algorithm. No one caught the error. The public has already seen the results, so it’s not possible to change them now.”

“Who?” Riddle demanded. “Tell me Rigel Black’s pairing was unscathed by this mess.”

Rookwood nodded slowly. “Black’s went ahead as planned. But Theodore Nott was paired with Jacqueline Moon’s daughter, not the Potter Heiress.”

“Who’s with the Potter girl then?”

In the distance, they heard an explosion and the sound of a woman shrieking in anger.

"My godson," said Rookwood.

Riddle put his hand up to halt the other man's explanation. “Go. Tell Bella I will speak with her tomorrow.”

Riddle waited until the door had swung closed before he stood up from his chair to pace, muttering curses to himself in Parseltongue. For once, Rigel Black hadn’t been the one to wreck his plans. His damnable “cousin” had been.

The setup was simple. Theodore Nott had been easy to recruit. If that was less due to Party loyalty, and more due to the secrets Riddle dangled over the young boy’s head… well, blackmail was a tried-and-true method. Nott had already agreed to every step of Riddle’s plan involving Harriet Potter. Now that plan was shattered to smithereens. The algorithm had overridden the match.

Caelum Lestrange was, unquestionably, the most infuriating of the Dark Heirs. Caelum’s mother was easy by comparison. Bellatrix was in love with Tom Riddle; if he lifted a finger, she would have jumped in his bed in an instant. But that misplaced, frenetic eagerness to please hadn’t transferred to her son. Caelum had always been a difficult child. As a young man, he was more obnoxious than he had any right to be. 

Riddle almost wished Potter had been matched to the young Malfoy instead. While that would have left her closer to Rigel than was ideal, Malfoy had loyalty to the Party and a sense of decorum that his older cousin lacked.

Riddle ran a hand over his face, sighing deeply. What else did he know about Caelum Lestrange? Lestrange's attendance at Durmstrang made his personal connections to British Dark Pureblood Society more tenuous than the typical Hogwarts alum. The connections he did have were made through the Potions Guild or through his parents, who came from two of the oldest pureblood lines in Britain. He was apprenticed to Master Whitaker, a peripheral member of the SOW Party. Overall, Lestrange was just the kind of arrogant, inbred Heir that the algorithm was designed to force into marriage for their own good. Riddle sneered to himself.

The burning question, then: why would the algorithm pair Lestrange with Potter? 

The young Lestrange was powerful. Bellatrix had reported Caelum's register as light blue: a solid Mage level. In contrast, accounts out of America put Potter at a light green. Only average. Surely, there were other half-blood matches for the Lestrange Heir that would produce more powerful offspring. No matter what crazy stunts Potter had been pulling in the potions community, she wasn’t anything special magically. Or was she? Her feat healing Tiberius Ogden at the New Year’s Gala hosted by the Parkinsons had left him wondering. 

Riddle would never admit it, but Potions had never been his strongest subject. He was textbook-perfect, but he’d never had the flair for invention. That’s why he had Severus. And Severus thought the girl had potential enough to offer an apprenticeship to her, despite her apparent power levels. 

Even if it wasn’t about power, it could be about personality. Still, the match didn't make sense on a compatibility level either. Lestrange and Potter shared a fanaticism for Potions, but a recipe for a lasting marriage that was not. His algorithm, his beautifully designed algorithm, would’ve known that. So _how_ could this catastrophe have happened?

Regardless... it needn't be a catastrophe, Riddle reasoned. He wanted Potter far away from Rigel. Lestrange could help accomplish that, if not in the way that Riddle had imagined Nott doing so. Rigel and the Lestrange Heir hated each other fiercely, and had even made public scenes at multiple galas. With Potter as Lestrange’s bonded wife, Rigel might at last release his sentimental attachment to the girl and to the Light.

Riddle reached for the parchment and ink on his desk to write to Narcissa Malfoy. A social event, that’s what this needed. An opportunity to observe the matches for himself, speak to those Heirs who required a firm hand, guide a few onto the correct path, and proceed from there.

-O-

[Hphphphphp]

-O-

“We’re moving to America. Pack your things.” 

“We don’t need to flee the country, Dad,” sighed Harriet Potter. “You have your job, Mum will have hers once things sort out with Novus Industries. And we wouldn’t want to leave Sirius and Archie, or Remus, would we? I had hoped that the law wouldn’t pass, much less with a provision like this, but there are worse things.” _Like being sent to Azkaban for blood identity theft._

Her cousin Archie tilted his head in thought. “It makes sense, the match. But the algorithm made an oversight. _When_ are you two going to create beautiful pureblooded-by-definition babies together, if neither of you can be dragged away from a cauldron? Logistically, it doesn’t work.”

James made a strangled sound.

Harry rolled her eyes. “Archie, stop tormenting Dad. There will be no babies.”

“That’s the whole point of the marriage law,” Archie said. “So yeah, there will be. Unless we move to America.”

Harry snatched the newspaper from the table and shook it in Archie's direction. “Stop smirking. At least Lestrange and I are… friends. Daphne hates your guts.”

Archie, who had never met Daphne Greengrass (now Daphne Yaxley, since she’d taken her mother’s maiden name), was clearly underestimating her burning hatred. “At least I’m not in imminent danger of being murdered by Dirk Cresswell. You think Bellatrix Lestrange will take this lying down?”

“She loves Riddle,” Harry said. "She wouldn't go against him, surely?"

“Archie’s right," Sirius interjected. "You need to write to the Lestranges and head this off before my cousin takes it into her own evil hands.”

Lily clattered down the stairs with Addy in her arms. “I’ll write the letter,” she called. “I’m sure we can work this out. There may be some flexibility with the matches, especially if your father can pull some strings with the Ministry.”

Sirius leaned forward, locking eyes with Harry across the table. “I heard Riddle was adamant you should’ve been matched with the Nott boy.”

“Theo?” Harry said. “Why?”

“No idea. They didn’t say. Ask Archie, he knows the kid.” Sirius spread his hands

Archie shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe Theo is in deeper with the SOW Party than I thought.” _Than you told me,_ he meant.

Harry frowned. Riddle wanted Harry out of Rigel’s way and under control; he’d pick a match whose loyalty was assured. Had Theo fallen under Riddle’s influence, more so than the other Dark Pureblood Heirs their age? She hadn’t thought Riddle bothered much with young people; his interest in Rigel had seemed a notable exception.

She felt oddly betrayed by the idea that her friend would conspire with Riddle to control her. It shouldn’t have hurt so much. Theo barely knew Harry, who he’d met a few times. As Rigel, she’d known since the beginning that her pureblood friends had loyalty to their families and to the SOW Party over any loyalty to their friendship. To her. And Theo had never exactly been pro-equality when it came to blood status, no matter how cordial he’d been to her when they’d met during the SOW Party fundraiser in Diagon.

“Maybe,” she agreed, struggling to keep her voice steady. “It doesn’t matter. We won’t be marrying until we’re seventeen. That’s two years to get the law changed. Archie, are you with me?” She raised her eyebrows at him, silently signaling that she had more up her sleeve than a few petitions. 

“I’m always with you, Harry,” Archie said.

The Malfoys owed Rigel a life debt. Two Wizengamot elders owed them to her, too. And she had a number of ways she planned to make Riddle regret ever double-crossing her.

-O-

-o-

-O-

Harry had never figured Caelum Lestrange for one to sleep in, but he was still in bed at the late hour of ten in the morning. She'd never seen him anything less than polished before. He was oddly adorable this way, curled up like a Knarl, in black silk pajamas embroidered with the Lestrange crest.

“What the—” Caelum fumbled for his wand on his bedside table and pointed it at her.

“Calm down, it’s just me,” Harry said, rolling her eyes.

“Potter.” Caelum bit out her name like a curse, but lowered his wand. “Is that supposed to be reassuring? Why are you tormenting me with your uninvited presence?"

"I thought we needed to talk in private.”

His face went red. “This is my _bedroom._ It isn’t proper. How did you even get in here?”

"I told Mum I had to use the bathroom," Harry explained. "Not sure if she heard me over Dad's shouting.” 

“And your parents are in my home because?” He slid out of his bed to stand, eyeing her the whole time. His pajama pants were too short and exposed his pale ankles.

“Didn’t they tell you we were coming? I think your father is attempting to bribe my whole family into leaving Britain so you can get a new match.”

“Why don’t you then?” Caelum hissed. “Take the gold and get out, you fool, before my mother decides to take drastic measures.”

"Oh, sorry,” Harry snapped, hands on hips. “Was there another half-blood you were dying to marry? Archie has Daphne Greengrass. Maybe we could arrange a trade. Or if you don't like blondes, there may be a Prewett cousin available. Too bad Ginny Weasley is a pureblood. I think you’d really hit it off.” 

Caelum gritted his teeth. “Don’t be ridiculous. I never asked to be pulled into this stupid engagement or any other. I have my Potions Mastery to worry about.”

“So do I!" Harry said furiously. "But even if we got the Ministry to reconsider this ill-thought-out match, they'd still make us both marry _somebody._ ” 

They stared at each other for a moment, considering. 

Despite her joke about trading, the powers in charge of the algorithm would never in a million years allow her to marry Archie. Riddle was too set on bending Rigel to his will. She would bet that Riddle would make another attempt to match her with Theo, if he got the chance. But she wouldn’t let Riddle control her — not as Rigel, and not as Harry.

“We wouldn’t have to marry until I’m seventeen anyway,” Harry pointed out. “Two years of engagement. By then the law will likely be repealed.”

Caelum scoffed. “You think Lord Riddle will let that happen?”

"You never know,” she said, raising her chin. If she had anything to do with it, Riddle would soon be seeing the error of his ways.

"I suppose you may be the most tolerable half-blood out there," Caelum said bitterly. "Not that that's saying much."

"And you're the most tolerable pureblooded snob," Harry shot back. "But at least, if the worst came to pass, we wouldn't have to worry about being barged in on during delicate brewing stages. And we could share a lab."

Caelum scowled. "I'm not sharing _all_ my rare ingredients with you. You don't appreciate them the way they deserve to be appreciated."

"Yes, yes, I'll keep my hands off your grindylow webbing, as long as you don't steal my ideas for your Mastery thesis." She was curious if he'd actually do his thesis on Shaped Imbuing. She wanted her invention to change the Potions community and expand possibilities, and Caelum's work could help her do that.

"It's not stealing when you agreed to teach me," Caelum said defensively, falling for the bait.

Harry kept her smirk inside. "Just give me proper credit and we'll call it even."

"Whatever, brat. So… what now? We stroll out of here and tell everyone we can't _wait_ to get married?" His sneer seemed half-hearted. “That’ll go over like dried chimera eyes in Wolfsbane.”

“I guess we could pretend to be dating,” she said thoughtfully. “It would keep our families from fighting the match on our behalf. We don’t want to end up engaged to somebody worse."

“You want to pretend we’ve been courting?” Caelum stared at her. “Have you hit your head? Do you remember who my parents are?”

“How is that worse than the fact that we want to stay engaged?”

“It’s worse,” he said darkly.

“Fine then,” she retorted. “Tell my family the truth, that you actually loathe me but you hate all other half-bloods more, so you’re making the great sacrifice of marrying me. No way that could backfire with my Muggleborn mother and my overprotective father.”

“I never — Why must you make everything so damn difficult?” Caelum bemoaned, rubbing his forehead. There were still lines on his face from where he'd pressed it into his pillow.

“It’s a gift,” Harry said sweetly. 

He threw up his hands in defeat. “Have it your way, half-blood. When things go horribly wrong, we can look back on this moment and blame you.”

“I’m waiting with bated breath.” She glanced towards the doorway. “Put on some clothes and meet me back in your parlor in a few minutes.” 

Harry left him there, muttering to himself, and navigated her way through the stone corridors under her Invisibility Cloak. She didn’t want any portraits snitching about her trip to Caelum’s bedroom. She took off the Cloak in the nearest powder room and stashed it in her bag. 

When she slipped back into the parlor, Bellatrix was no longer there, only Rodolphus, James, and Lily. They’d left Addy with Sirius and Archie for her own safety.

“Oh, there you are, Harry.” Lily sounded relieved. “I worried you’d gotten lost.”

“Not hard to imagine,” Rodolphus said nastily. “For one as provincial as your daughter.” His tone made _provincial_ sound like _mudblood._

James opened his mouth to retort. Just as he did, Caelum entered the room.

“Father,” Caelum acknowledged. “Lord Potter, Lady Potter.”

He bowed stiffly and moved to stand beside Harry. Since she’d left his bedroom, he’d thrown on robes and combed his hair. With his face set in a neutral expression instead of an annoyed one, he was even more heart-stoppingly beautiful.

“Lestrange,” James said coolly.

“Where’s Lady Lestrange?” Harry asked.

“She went to petition our Lord for assistance,” Rodolphus said. “Convince him to reconsider this travesty.”

Harry gave Caelum a pointed glance, trying to nudge him towards saying something. He looked back at her with wild eyes, mouthing _You do it_. She resisted the urge to groan.

“Caelum and I want to stay engaged,” she said abruptly.

Rodolphus coughed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly." James looked at Lily as if he wanted her to explain that yes, he’d misheard, and here was what Harry meant to say.

Harry shrugged, putting her hands in her pockets. “We’re a good couple already,” she lied, “so we figured, we won’t let the algorithm ruin something that's working. We won’t be married for two years anyway.”

James grimaced. “I appreciate the pranking effort, Harry, but we seriously need to practice your timing.”

“I don’t think this is a prank, dear,” Lily said delicately. “Although it’s certainly the first I’m hearing of this relationship.”

Rodolphus hadn’t said anything aloud, but his face said he also hoped it was a prank.

“Though we would prefer our hands weren’t forced in this matter, we are content with the outcome,” Caelum finally chimed in. He did not sound enthusiastic.

“That’s settled, then,” Harry said, clapping her hands together. 

"It is _not—_ " James started.

"The elves told me lunch is served," Caelum announced, cutting off James' response. "You may wish to join, Potters. Father?"

Rodolphus's expression was sour. "I must attend to another matter. Caelum, we'll speak when your mother returns home."

Harry asked Caelum with her eyes if this was a cause for concern. He either didn't receive the message or chose to ignore it, because he turned away to lead her family to the dining room. 

She couldn’t help but hear Lily, leaning in to whisper in James’ ear: “Let me handle this, darling.”

Harry had eaten in the Great Hall on her first day becoming Rigel Black, and she’d taken tea with Lord Riddle at the Malfoys’, but she had never had a more uncomfortable meal than the one she shared with Caelum and her parents. By the end of the meal, Harry was sure of two things. One: she and Caelum would need more practice to pass for a convincing couple. Two: Her family would need a _lot_ of time to warm up to her new fiancé.

-O-

-o-

-O-

“Gather round, kids, I have bad news,” Sirius said, beckoning Harry and Archie towards the Grimmauld Place parlor.

Harry and Archie traded fearful looks and followed. Sirius was holding a roll of cream parchment, with swirling calligraphy.

“What is it, Dad?” Archie asked, running a hand through his hair.

Sirius sighed dramatically. “I’m afraid that you two have been summoned… to a _gala._ ”

“A gala?” Harry echoed, relief flooding through her. “When? Why? Whose gala?”

“This weekend. Allegedly to celebrate the new engagements made through the Ministry’s matching. But Narcissa Malfoy is hosting, so it’s probably all Riddle’s doing. You both are expected to attend with your betrotheds. It’s not phrased as a request. Should I write back and tell them to go to hell?”

Archie shrugged. “Harry?”

She frowned. “I’m not sure we’re really able to refuse… it might be more prudent to go, to appear to be cooperating with the Ministry’s law for the time being.”

“Are you sure, Harry?” Sirius asked, frowning too. “We’re on the invitations too — me and your parents — but it’s a political minefield out there.”

“If we’re ‘expected to attend’, we should,” Harry said, thinking hard. “It’ll be a chance to talk to Wizengamot members, too, and feel out people’s positions on the issue. Archie and I will figure out the rest.” They’d have to deal with the resonance in her core if she had to be Harry around Riddle, but she’d been working on a strategy for that with Dom. 

She and Archie spent the next few days plotting. They drew up plans, made lists, and wrote letters. Harry wrote to Rigel’s friends and acquaintances to get more information about their matches, and their family’s attitudes towards the law. 

On Wednesday, Harry was in Tate’s apothecary, picking through newt eyes, when someone tapped her shoulder. She spun to meet Caelum’s gaze.

“Come on,” he said, tugging her towards the door.

“Come _where_?” She pulled back and walked over to the register, since she hadn’t paid yet.

“Didn’t you get my owl?”

“No.” She smiled at Tate apologetically. “My school account, please.” To Caelum, she said, “What did the owl say?”

“The owl said, meet me in front of the bank at noon. You’re late.” He crossed his arms.

Harry accepted her wrapped-up package from Tate and waved good-bye on her way out the door, Caelum following her and practically vibrating with irritation.

“I can’t be late if I never got the invitation,” she pointed out.

Caelum rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

“Where?” she insisted.

“Gringotts, like I said!” He started walking, then stopped when he realized she wasn’t following.

“What do you mean, Gringotts?” Harry balked. “I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are,” Caelum said indignantly. “I’d take my fiancée to choose one of the family betrothal rings. Everyone will expect to see one on your finger. Thus, we are going to Gringotts. Keep up.”

“Fine,” she said, feeling petulant. She reached out to take his hand.

Caelum yanked his hand back like she was covered in slime. “What are you doing, brat?”

Harry fluttered her lashes at him mockingly. “Everyone will expect to see me holding hands with my betrothed. Do you want to sell this or not?”

“You are so aggravating,” he muttered, but he deigned to take her hand.

"I also wouldn't let my fiancé call me brat," she added. "Or Half-blood."

"Next you'll want me to call you by that ridiculous nickname," Caelum grumbled. At her confused look, he elaborated. “ _Harry._ Like a street boy.”

“A street boy?” She laughed. “Harry is a perfectly good nickname for Harriet.”

He shook his head as he towed her along the cobblestone street. “Anything would be better. Hattie. Etta. Something feminine.”

“I like Harry. It’s simple.”

“You’re simple,” he sniped.

“Great comeback. I’m so insulted,” Harry said cheerily. 

The grand building of Gringotts loomed before them. She didn’t often go to the bank herself; James handled the Potter family finances and Harry charged her potions purchases to her school account. Krait paid her in cash, and she paid rent for her apartment in cash too. She trailed Caelum up the steps, to the counter, and then to the carts alongside a Gringotts goblin. He wasn’t asked for identification beyond the vault key. She supposed his confidence and his sneer were sufficient proof he was a Lestrange. 

The cart took them down at a dizzying pace. The Lestrange vault was much deeper in the bank than the Potter vault. Clutching the edge of the cart, Harry did her best not to let the nausea overcome her. It was less from the motion — not too different from flying, although she wasn't in control — and more from the sickening darkness of the caves pressing in around her. She hadn't been underground this long since… since...

She shoved the memory deep inside her mind, as the goblin opened the vault and stepped back to allow them entrance.

“Don’t touch anything,” Caelum warned. “I’m sure some of the artifacts react to impure blood.”

“I don’t think curses can do that,” Harry said dubiously. If they could, she would’ve needed to be more careful touching things as Rigel.

“Fine, react to those without sufficient Lestrange blood. These days, it’s basically the same thing.”

“Because you’re all so inbred.” Harry nodded her understanding. “But how am I supposed to choose a ring if I can’t touch anything?” 

He glared at her. “I will hold them out for you to look at. Whatever one you pick, we’ll remove the curses if necessary. My ancestors didn’t anticipate this ridiculous law when enchanting their heirlooms.”

“How rude of them.”

He found the jewelry case and began pulling out improbably large rings to show her.

“No, no, definitely not,” she said, shaking her head at a series of options and grimacing at one huge diamond. “I need to use my hand, Caelum. Is there something simple? It's going to get covered in gunk when I brew anyway." 

He huffed. “I can’t have my fiancée walking around with some pitiful ring. People will either think my family is struggling financially, which is clearly not the case, or they'll think I don't respect you.” 

"...Do you?" It had slipped out of her mouth, unbidden. But she didn't take the question back.

There was a long pause. Caelum’s face went red, and he wouldn’t look at her anymore. "Irrelevant."

"It's relevant to our engagement," she disagreed.

“No, what’s relevant is what other people assume. Not some indistinct idea of what’s ‘true’.” He busied himself opening a new drawer of the jewelry case.

His refusal to answer was answer enough. She squashed the unwelcome swell of emotions. It was fine, Harry told herself. She didn’t need his respect. It was silly to think she'd ever have it, for a number of reasons. She only needed him to cooperate with their facade of a relationship and to leave her alone to brew her potions if they did end up getting married. She could trust him to do that much.

“I like that one.” Harry reached out to indicate a ring, but Caelum swatted her hand away.

“Do you want your hand to shrivel off?” he said sternly. “This one is goblin-made, commissioned for my great-great-grandmother Henrietta. An old mine diamond with rose cut rubies and a hand-engraved gold band. You'd better memorize that description for when people ask.”

“Henrietta?” she said slyly. “Did she go by Harry?”

"She most certainly did not.”

“Was she born in July too, or did she just like rubies? Or was she a _Gryffindor?”_ Harry gasped in fake horror.

“July,” he said, as they exited the vault. "No Lestrange has ever been a Gryffindor."

She shook her head in exaggerated disappointment. "There's always next time.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his beautiful face turning contemplative.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry clambered into the cart behind him and the goblin.

Caelum sniffed disdainfully. “How to dismantle the curse on that ring. I may just hire Gringotts to do it. It might not be ready for the gala. But they’ll guarantee your finger won’t wither off, or my money back."

"Good plan. I don't know how talented you are at curse-breaking, but let's not leave things to chance. I need both hands for brewing." That wasn't strictly true — she'd survived part of her first year at Hogwarts with one usable wrist, determinedly chopping and stirring one-handed. But she wouldn't care to repeat the experience.

Caelum glanced over his shoulder at her. "You need them both? Huh. Remind me to get you a new wedding present. Fanged Geraniums are old-fashioned anyway."

Her startled laugh was lost in the whoosh of the cart up the tracks. 

-O-

-o-

-O-

Harry wasn't at the same level of prankster as the rest of her family, or Fred and George, but she did have her mischievous side. 

"I made our appointment for Twilfitt and Tattings," she said innocently, gesturing down the alley. "Aren't you coming?"

Caelum stared at her hard, like he couldn't quite tell if she was serious. "You’re supposed to be the nice one, Potter. Don’t make me suffer through a robe shopping trip. Just pick something in a flattering color, and ask them for a style like what Lady Malfoy wore to the Garden Party last month."

"You call your aunt Lady Malfoy?" 

“It’s respectful,” Caelum said stiffly.

Harry snorted. “Of course, because respectful addresses have been so important to you, historically.”

“We’re not close. I hardly see my mother’s family. Hell, my own cousin calls me ‘Lestrange’.” He rubbed his chin.

That was sad, in Harry’s opinion. Even though she felt that her relationship with her family was somewhat strained (due to the fact that she’d been lying to them both explicitly and implicitly since she was eleven), she wouldn’t trade them for anything. She was closer to Sirius and Remus than most people were to their blood uncles. And without Archie, her life would have been completely different. 

Without Archie, without the ruse, she would’ve gone to AIM alone. She would never have tried to learn Healing. She wouldn’t have been in the Lower Alleys looking for a job, never would’ve met Leo, never had the Guild internship, never caught Professor Snape’s attention on her own merit, maybe never invented Shaped Imbuing at all. Draco might have died. Tiberius Ogden, too. Ginny would be dead or in Azkaban. 

Harry wouldn’t know how to fight or protect herself. She wouldn’t have been poisoned by a basilisk and almost died in the Chamber — she wouldn’t have been tortured in the Forbidden Forest all those endless days — she wouldn’t have competed in the tournament and seen what she was capable of, at the end of everything.

Without the ruse, she wouldn’t be here either, standing with Caelum Lestrange in the middle of Diagon Alley. If the marriage law had passed the same way, she _would’ve_ fled to America rather than marry the boy she’d first met years ago. Their odd friendship never would’ve had the chance to grow as it had, in unsteady jumps, over steaming cauldrons and steamed dumplings. 

“Are you even listening?” Caelum’s voice snapped her out of her stupor.

“Sorry, no, what were you saying?” She blinked up at him apologetically. 

“Nothing,” he said, transparently sulky. “Go get your dress robes.”

Before he went to leave, she found herself saying, “Do you want to come over tonight?” 

Sulkiness turned to shock on his face. “ _What_?”

“I’m not propositioning you,” she said hastily, aware of the interested glances from passerby at the two of them standing awkwardly together. “I just thought it might be nice to talk about the gala, get our act together. And maybe we could brew something.”

Caelum bit his lip, something she’d never seen him do before. “Fine,” he agreed. “I’m free in a few hours. Go on to your appointment, before you irritate Twilfitt with your lateness and get stuck with some atrocious ensemble that’ll shame us both.”

“Perish the thought.”

When Harry glanced back over her shoulder on her way down the Alley, Caelum was still standing outside Gringotts.

Two hours later, Harry Flooed back to Potter Place empty-handed. Twilfitt had told Harry she would owl the custom robes out in time for the gala. The older woman had fussed over the fitting and design, wrapping Harry in swaths of colorful fabric and measuring every inch of her Polyjuiced form. Harry had paid a sinful amount of Galleons for the honor.

“Hello?” Harry called, but she didn’t hear any response. She supposed her mother and Addy must have gone to Sirius’s, or out to a park to enjoy the sunshine.

Harry made her way down the basement stairs to her lab, cleaning up self-consciously. She normally kept her workspace neat, but there was only so much she could do about the stains on her worktable or the chips in her old knife sets. She shoved the knives away in a drawer and pulled out her nicer sets from her potions bag.

She went back upstairs in time to catch Caelum coming out of the Floo. It was only his second time at Potter Place. They stood for a moment, in front of the fireplace, looking at each other. Caelum always looked good in his brewing robes, but it was more than that. Last time, when she’d rounded the corner with James on her heels to greet Caelum, the whole situation had felt strange and surreal. Now, having Caelum Lestrange in her living room felt oddly… right.

“You came,” she said.

“Yes, I did,” he said, instead of biting out something like _clearly_ or _are we pointing out obvious facts now, Potter, should I bring up your horrendous hair?_

Harry blushed and pulled herself out of her imagination. “I was thinking it might be interesting to collaborate on a Shaped Imbuing project. I haven’t tried imbuing multiple spells yet — I’m not sure the base can handle it — but I wonder if each individual spell is composed of a smaller quantity of magic, making the net magic imbued in the potion the same, and the timing is right, it would be enough to hold the potion together. Come try it with me?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Lucky you have me here. Explain that theory again, like a potions theorist instead of a drunk apprentice this time.”

There was the snark she’d missed. “Just come through here —”

Around the corner, Harry barreled right into her little sister, who was toddling towards the hall bathroom with her chin covered in orange juice. Evidently, Addy had returned sometime while Harry had been cleaning up her workstation in the lab.

“Hawwy!” Addy said joyfully. The toddler still hadn’t mastered the “R” sound despite general improvements in her vocabulary.

“This is my little sister, Addy,” Harry introduced. “Addy, this is Caelum.” 

She wasn’t sure what else to say in her introduction. Caelum’s last name wouldn’t matter to Addy, unless Harry specified that he was related to Sirius. Should she have said, _Caelum, my boyfriend,_ which was true as far as her parents knew, even if it sounded strange in those words? 

“Nice to meet you,” Caelum greeted, so warmly that Harry was taken aback.

“Lo, Kay-loom!” Addy completely butchered Caelum’s name, which made Harry wince. 

Caelum, though, laughed. “It took me a while to get it, too, Addy,” he confided. “I didn’t get my cousin Regulus’ name straight until I was at least 6 or 7. They don’t make it easy on children, the Blacks. ”

“When is your birfday? I’m two!” Addy put up two fingers to show Caelum. 

Caelum glanced over at Harry, his blue eyes crinkling slightly. “My birthday is in June. I just turned nineteen.”

“You’re bigger than me,” Addy said sadly.

“You’ll catch up before you know it, Addy.” Harry smiled at her sister. “Where’s mum?”

Addy pointed upstairs. “Sleepin’. Uncle Wemus made a snack with bwoccoli. I hate bwoccoli.” She pouted at Caelum, possibly hoping he would offer her something else to eat. Sirius was known to succumb to Addy’s puppy-dog eyes, usually producing candy or snacks from his pockets. 

“I’m so jealous. Broccoli is delicious,” Caelum said, with a wink in Harry’s direction.

“Go back and finish your snack, sweetheart,” Harry suggested. “Caelum and I have some brewing to do downstairs.” At Addy’s frown, she added, “He’ll come say good-bye to you before he leaves, okay?”

“Kay,” Addy said, deflated, and trudged back to the kitchen.

Harry led Caelum down to the lab, feeling somewhat nonplussed at his treatment of her sister.

“What?” he demanded.

“Nothing, just… surprised. You were very sweet to Addy. She already likes you better than me, not that it’s a high bar.” Harry laughed self-consciously as she lit the fire under her cauldron.

“Why is it so surprising that I find children tolerable?” Caelum crossed his arms. “They haven’t had the opportunity to become cynical, stupid adults yet. And children will tell you what they really think.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Harry said.

“Your sister doesn’t like me better than you. I’m just new and different. And children are often starstruck by beauty, you know.” 

“Oh, is that why you stare so much at me?” Harry joked. 

Caelum huffed. “Get out the ingredients for your base, Potter.”

She did. He watched her prep them in silence for a while. He didn’t offer to help, and she didn’t ask him to. She didn’t need his help for this part — truthfully, she could have tried the whole double-spell experiment without him at all, no matter what she’d said about timing. 

“Did you ever want a little sister?” Harry asked, not looking up from her chopping.

He cleared his throat. “You shouldn’t go around asking people that, Potter. Haven’t you learned about the Fade in those Healing classes of yours?”

Harry immediately felt horrible. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that your parents — that your family was affected.” Honestly, after seeing Bellatrix and Rodolphus interact with each other, and hearing Bellatrix talk about Caelum, she’d assumed they’d produced one Heir and called it quits. None of the Lestranges seemed the warm, familial type. Although, she thought, with the way Caelum had smiled down at Addy, maybe her judgement had been flawed.

Caelum ran a finger over her lab table as if checking for dust. “It was a long time ago. I was young. They should have known better.” His explanation sounded flat, his expression shuttered.

Harry changed the subject. “So, about my idea…”

He relaxed around her once they’d switched topics, standing too close to each other by the heat of the cauldron. It was hard to gauge time in the lab, with no windows, but Harry’s stomach eventually started rumbling. Unlike Addy, she hadn’t eaten a midafternoon snack, and she’d only eaten a light lunch before going to Tate’s apothecary in Diagon.

Together, they finished up work on the experimental potion, which accepted the imbued magic components of a Levitation Charm (her magic) and a Lumos (his). A small glowing ball was produced, which remained in place, bobbing over the spot where the potion was carefully poured. She gave Caelum an excited grin over the ball of light. Harry wasn’t sure if the theory would transfer to spells of a higher level than the _Standard Book of Spells, Grade One,_ but it was worth exploring.

“I had fun today,” Harry said inanely, as they ascended the stairs to the rest of Potter Place. It was so easy to be with Caelum when they were brewing, but something about the day had thrown her off her rhythm when it came to making sociable conversation. Maybe the trip to Gringotts, or the conversation about Caelum’s Faded sibling, or the interaction with her own little sister. 

The sister in question came bounding out of the living room. “Kay-loom,” she squealed. Behind her, Remus followed at a normal pace. He gave Harry a small grimace, and nodded at Caelum.

“How was brewing?” Remus asked pleasantly, while Addy tugged at Caelum’s arm to get his attention.

“It was good,” Harry said, distracted.

“Did you eat your broccoli?” Caelum asked Addy seriously.

“Yeah! I eated all of it!”

Caelum leaned down to give Addy a high-five. Addy’s hand was tiny against his, but her grin was huge. 

Harry felt, suddenly, like she’d swallowed a dose of Pepper-Up Potion, a warmth spreading through her body. Maybe Draco, with his empathy, could have identified the peculiar feeling in her gut, but Harry herself didn’t know where to begin. She tore her eyes away from Caelum and her little sister. When she met Remus’s gaze, he was looking at her and frowning slightly, like he did when he was trying to decide how to market the newest Marauders’ product. 

Harry cleared her throat. “Caelum has to be getting home, Addy. Can you tell him good-bye?”

“Come back tomowow?” Addy asked earnestly, giving Caelum her adorable puppy-dog eyes again. Was this what James and Sirius had had to deal with all the time, when Harry and Archie had been younger and perfecting The Look?

Caelum shook his head. “Your sister has more important things to do than entertain me every day,” he said, meeting Harry’s eyes for a moment. “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, though.”

After Caelum left through the Floo, Addy sighed and flopped down on the plush rug. “He’s so pwetty. Like Santa!” she said.

Remus and Harry both had to laugh at that.


	2. Something True

Normally, Draco enjoyed parties. He liked dressing up in his finest attire, sweeping into ballrooms with all the Malfoy aplomb, and spending time with his friends. Dancing with pretty girls and boys wasn’t too bad either. But this party was already proving to be a drag for two reasons. For one, Rigel hadn’t arrived, and neither had most of Draco’s other friends. For another, he was expected to remain by the side of his new fiancée. Sally Parks was a perky brunette, who’d arrived at a _gala_ wearing a high ponytail and sunshine yellow robes, radiating excitement and nervousness in a sickening aura. If she’d gone to Hogwarts instead of AIM, she would have been a Hufflepuff.

Draco had detested her since he’d first laid eyes on her, the day after the marriage law passed. What had the Ministry’s algorithm been thinking? What had the SOW Party and his parents been thinking, to support this law to force him to dilute the pure Malfoy legacy with a half-blood bride? Draco wasn’t some crazy blood supremacist like his aunt. He didn’t want all half-bloods to _die._ He’d liked Harriet Potter well enough, back when he’d forced himself to interact with her for Rigel’s sake. But half-bloods had their place, and he had his, and there was no need to force the two separate worlds together. 

And Parks was the exact opposite of the spouse Draco had wanted for so long.

As Narcissa was the party’s host, Draco had been waiting in the ballroom almost an hour. They’d forgone the traditional receiving line, and the guests were descending the grand staircase as they arrived. Draco himself had descended with Parks on his arm, but had quickly released her to go procure refreshments while he brooded.

It became harder to brood as more and more attendees arrived. They packed the ballroom and overwhelmed Draco with the swell of their emotions. He was considering fleeing to the patio, when his attention was caught by Caelum Lestrange. 

His cousin was standing alone in the corner, glowering at everyone who passed by. Narcissa had mentioned, and Rigel had confirmed by owl, that Lestrange had been paired with Rigel’s cousin and erstwhile fiancée, Harriet Potter. _Of all the possibilities to rankle the Lestranges,_ Draco thought with amusement. A half-blood from a notoriously Light family, the daughter of the _Head Auror_ , schooled in America, poised to be a competitor in Lestrange’s own field. Her Potions prowess couldn’t compare to Rigel’s, but it was evidently enough to impress Uncle Severus. Draco wanted to know who the Lestranges had managed to aggravate enough for the Ministry to go ahead with that pairing, no matter what the “algorithm” had spit out. Draco’s curiosity won out over his desire to escape the event, and he approached Lestrange. 

Lestrange scowled at him. “What do you want?”

“Is that any way to greet your favorite first cousin?” Draco feigned hurt.

“My _only_ first cousin." 

Draco wisely didn’t bring up their other cousin, the half-blood, even though she would surely be at the gala tonight too. “How’s your apprenticeship treating you? Potions, right?” 

“Indeed. I anticipate taking my Mastery exam next year, after my apprenticeship formally concludes.”

After Draco had exhausted that subject, which Lestrange was willing if not eager to speak about, he pivoted to the topic of conversation he was actually curious about. "So, what do you think of your fiancée? Heiress Potter?" 

“She’s…” Lestrange trailed off, shooting Draco a distrustful glare. “She’s all right. I’ve been courting her.”

Draco had to mind the manners drilled into him by a lifetime of etiquette tutors to keep from spewing out his mouthful of punch. “I beg your pardon?” 

“We _are_ betrothed, thanks to this new law,” Lestrange drawled. 

“And I’m betrothed to Parks, but I’m not going around eating ice cream at Fortescue’s and making eyes at her,” Draco pointed out.

Lestrange wrinkled his nose. “We don’t do that. We brew together, for the most part. She’s not a terrible potioneer.” 

His horrendous-to-everyone cousin had a soft spot for Potter, did he? Imagine that. Lestrange hated Rigel, and Potter had always seemed like an extension of Rigel. Draco wondered if it was just a show for his benefit… perhaps Lestrange was trying to make a political statement. One way to find out his true feelings.

“I’m sure you’ve spent a great deal of time _brewing_ with her.” Draco smirked suggestively. "Does she play the little _apprentice_ to your master?" 

He reached out with his empathy to feel the other boy's reaction to the goading. To Draco’s surprise, Lestrange radiated neither disgust (the proper reaction to the insinuation) nor smugness (what Draco would expect if he’d really been bedding Potter). Instead, Draco was hit with a wave of offended anger.

“Shut the hell up,” Lestrange growled. “Hasn’t your father taught you not to run your mouth unless you’re prepared to back it up?”

Draco straightened. “Is that a threat? Not very subtle of you, cousin.”

“Please. I don’t need to resort to threats to deal with the likes of you,” Lestrange sneered. “In fact, I…” He stopped talking, head swiveling towards the ballroom entrance.

Draco turned to see what had so captured his cousin’s attention in the midst of their argument. 

There was Rigel, descending the stairs, in navy blue robes that brought out the gray of his eyes and emphasized his strong shoulders. He had none other than Daphne Greengrass on his arm. No, Daphne _Yaxley_ , who Draco hadn't seen since she'd been expelled from Hogwarts. Her blonde hair was done up in an intricately braided crown. She was visibly seething.

Draco's gaze drifted up. At the top of the stairs, waiting for Rigel to reach the bottom, stood Harriet Potter. She was alone, presumably because her intended was already here beside Draco. Potter was pretty enough, dressed in well-fitting lilac robes, her dark hair falling in curls around her face. Draco privately thought everyone paled beside Rigel’s elegant beauty. Potter did look very like him, but her green eyes lacked Rigel’s sparkle. The angled cheekbones and sharp jaw that looked refined on Rigel’s face were out of place on a woman. And even at fifteen, Potter still had a boyish figure.

As Rigel and Daphne reached the bottom of the stairs and disappeared into the crowd, Draco turned back to Lestrange. “Where were we?” 

But the older boy was still watching Potter descend. Draco focused his empathy on the nauseating whirl of Lestrange’s emotions.

Frustration was prominent, but also worry, with a slick bite of self-loathing. Desire was there, strong enough to make Draco gag. And underneath it all, a warm combination Draco knew all too well — pride, a pinch of protectiveness, and the steady glow of affection. 

Draco couldn’t hold in a laugh. “I’ll be _damned_. You’ve gone and fallen in love with a half-blood. What does dear Aunt Bellatrix think of that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lestrange said, shoulders stiff. “Clearly, neither do you.”

“You’re a horrid liar—” 

“Draco!” 

It was Rigel who’d interrupted them. He’d made his way through the ballroom with Daphne and headed straight for Draco. Rigel’s soft gray eyes were wide, and he was radiating concern. It was strange. Rigel was so contained usually, but he tended towards transparency and gregariousness at events like this, even though he’d never been a social butterfly at Hogwarts. Still, Draco thought, Rigel had attended plenty of Society events since their first year. He should have gotten better at handling them, not worse.

Lestrange sneered at Rigel. “Black. Here to save your boyfriend from the thrashing he richly deserves? No need. I was just leaving to find my _lovely_ fiancée. Try not to expire from jealousy. I’d be jealous, too, if I was stuck with two love interests as vapid as these dolts.” He jerked his chin from Daphne to Draco.

Rigel flushed red, his radiated worry turning to embarrassment and anger. Daphne had been projecting the same two emotions since she’d first walked up: fury and scorn. Draco clenched his fists and wished he could use his wand to make his cousin regret his words. No way Lestrange could stand a minute against him in a duel, to say nothing of Rigel.

“Draco can take care of himself,” Rigel snapped. “Can you say the same, Lestrange?”

Lestrange disappeared into the crowd without answering that. Draco supposed that Lestrange didn’t fancy a confrontation with Rigel Black; such confrontations had never ended well for the older boy in the past.

“Sorry about that, Rigel,” Draco said apologetically. “How are you finding the party?”

“Your ballroom is beautiful,” Rigel said. 

Another odd remark, considering Rigel must have seen the ballroom during his other trips to the Manor. Or had he? Draco didn’t recall. Rigel never paid much attention to architecture, so maybe the ballroom hadn’t left an impression until it was all lit up and decorated. Draco and Daphne eyed each other critically. He didn’t particularly want to greet her, and it seemed she felt the same. Rigel bled discomfort about the situation.

“Have you seen my cousin Harry?” Rigel blurted. 

“Not since you entered.” Draco frowned. “Since Lestrange just left to find her, you could probably follow him.”

Rigel grimaced. “I’ll pass on that. Where’s your own fiancée? Sarah something?”

“Sally,” Draco said, pressing his lips together. It was rude of Rigel not to remember. But he’d only mentioned it in one letter, Draco reminded himself, and it wasn’t like he liked the chit anyway. “She went to get drinks. With any luck, she’ll meet a nice boy from America and elope by the end of the night.”

“Draco,” Rigel chastised. “I’m sure she’s very nice. Have you spent any time trying to get to know her?”

Draco rolled his eyes. Rigel had his do-gooder hat on tonight. “You’re welcome to talk to her yourself. You’ll see what I mean.”

“No one’s ever good enough for you, are they, Malfoy?” Daphne said, inserting herself in the conversation. Frankly, Draco hadn’t expected her to stew silently for as long as she had.

“Projecting, Greengrass?” Draco sneered. “No, I shouldn’t say that, should I? You’re hardly a Greengrass now.”

Daphne flushed an ugly puce. Rigel looked between the two of them, radiating insecurity and confusion in a palpable flare. 

“Come find me and Pansy when you’re done putting on a political show, Rigel,” Draco said, consciously holding his hands flat from where they itched to curl back into fists. This was no place for showing his hurt at Rigel’s attitude, or his anger at the whole messed-up situation, not where everyone in the world could see. 

He left to find the bright blonde flash of Pansy’s hair, left Rigel standing there.

-O-

[Hphphphphp]

-O

“You look lovely tonight.” Pansy’s smile was painfully bright as she greeted Harry.

“Not as lovely as you,” Harry returned. “Is your fiancée here?”

Pansy’s expression didn’t falter for a moment, even though Harry doubted the other girl felt quite as joyful as she looked. “She is. Her hair is aqua for the occasion, so I’m sure you’ll see her. It’s never a dull moment with Nymphadora around.”

Harry’s own smile was sincere. “Definitely not. How has your summer been so far?”

Pansy and Harry made idle conversation for a while, Harry soaking in her friend’s presence like a salve to her taut nerves. She thought she saw Draco through the crowd, but she couldn’t handle him as Harry right now. Archie would have to do his best alone.

Pansy begged off when the dancing began, and Harry disappeared before anyone could get any ideas about asking her to join. She made her way along the edge of the ballroom and lifted a hand to wave to aqua-haired Tonks as she passed. The patio was open, people spilling down the stone steps to escape the heat of the dance floor, or to find a quieter place to converse. The people out here were mostly older purebloods that Harry didn’t recognize, although they might have recognized _her_ if she’d been Rigel. Just past the steps, in the shelter of the library’s grand balcony, Harry finally found the person she’d been looking for. 

“Caelum.” She sighed with relief. “Have you been here the whole time?”

He was dressed finely, black hair coiffed. His icy-blue eyes jumped to meet hers from where he’d been staring off into the sunset. “Hello, Potter. No, I haven’t.” He didn’t offer any further explanation.

She sidled up next to Caelum. It was nice, half-hidden in the shadows under the balcony, the gardens spread out before them, turning glorious colors in the light of the sunset. The gold against his skin made him look otherworldly.

“No one’s cornered you to propose they take my place, have they?” Harry joked. “Made you a better offer? My dowry and trousseau are sadly lacking. Or have they offered to take me out of the way more permanently?"

Caelum snorted. “These fools are hardly willing to commit murder to get their hands on me. On the Lestrange fortune, perhaps, more plausibly. But no one invited to _this_ gala is hurting for galleons.”

“If only the betrothal ring had been ready in time,” Harry said, angling her bare hand to the light. “I could see murder being committed for _that_ rock.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. I didn’t tell you the story of my Aunt Blanche?”

“I don’t want an actual murder ring!” she protested.

“You’re too easy. It’s murder-free, I promise.” Caelum laughed, shaking his head.

Harry cocked an eyebrow and smiled mischievously. “For now.”

Harry watched Caelum’s face as he laughed harder, throwing his head back. Caelum laughed so infrequently that she still found something satisfying in making him laugh. Archie laughed freely, loudly, so while it was fun to joke with him, it didn’t have the same feeling of satisfaction as wrenching a laugh from Caelum. And not a sneering laugh or a crack at somebody’s expense, but laughter based on real humor, on an inside joke, or a piece of wordplay.

“Who’s the most interesting person you’ve talked with tonight?” Harry was still wondering why he was hiding out here all alone.

“Nobody,” Caelum said, souring immediately. “I spoke with my cousin. Not exactly what I’d call interesting.”

“Tonks is very interesting,” Harry defended.

Caelum frowned. “Who?”

“Andromeda’s daughter?"

“Not her, we still haven’t met. I mean Malfoy.”

“Draco?” Harry said, raising her eyebrows. “What did he have to say to you?”

Caelum rolled his eyes. “Nothing of note. Black ought to arm him with the latest edition of _Potions Quarterly,_ then at least he’d have some party conversation worth my while.”

“I’ll have Archie add it to his next owl. Draco’s better at carrying the conversation if you bring up dueling. For future reference.” 

Suddenly, Caelum froze. “Don’t look now, but Lord Riddle is coming over here.”

Harry barely resisted the urge to look. “Oh, no,” she breathed. 

She didn’t want to speak to Riddle at all, but especially not in front of Caelum. Riddle was too observant, for one. And she didn’t want him to get his claws in her fiancé. She’d lucked out, avoiding his intended match with Theo. Caelum, stubborn arse that he was, wouldn’t be so easy for Riddle to sway (or so she hoped).

She'd already warned Archie to stay away from Riddle by any means necessary, until they were ready to execute the next phase of their plan. Daphne would likely help him with that; she had no love for the SOW Party after being expelled from Hogwarts, replaced as the Greengrass Heiress by her younger sister, and now forced to marry someone she despised.

“We can’t just ask him to go away. You’ll have to grin and bear it and speak with him, although Merlin knows why he would want to talk to _you_ ,” Caelum whispered.

A brilliant, terrible solution occurred to her. “Come here,” she said, before her logical mind could finish protesting.

Harry grabbed Caelum's shoulders, scrunching his robes in her fist, and leaned up to kiss him.

His lips were soft and warm, parted in surprise. He stumbled back against the stone wall and grabbed onto her to catch his balance. After only a minute, she broke the kiss. She was close enough that she could see her own reflection in Caelum’s wide blue eyes.

“Is he gone?” she whispered. 

“What?” He hadn’t let go of her, even though his hands were clutching scandalously low on her hips. 

“Riddle, is he gone?” 

Caelum’s gaze flickered over her head. “No, he’s watching us. The pervert,” he muttered.

Harry sighed. She’d been sure Riddle would give up in disgust. “Maybe if we make it clear we’re not stopping anytime soon?” 

Without another word, he tilted his head and kissed her again. One of his hands slid up her back to tangle in her carefully twirled curls. When Harry parted her lips for him, she couldn’t blame it on surprise. 

Before tonight, she had only ever kissed Draco, and she’d had to pull away because she couldn’t risk the ruse. She’d never been kissed as _Harry._ The taste of dry cherry wine made it impossible to forget who she was with. Caelum Lestrange, her sneering, snobbish, potions-obsessed not-quite-friend — and now her fake boyfriend. Her betrothed. He must have been hiding a prodigious acting talent the entire time they’d been pretending to date, because this kiss was more than convincing.

He pulled her closer, and she stood on her tiptoes to help. Even with the latest dose of Modified Polyjuice, she was still rather short compared to Caelum. The hand that wasn’t in her hair was rubbing slow, warm circles on her lower back, accompanying the movement of his lips against hers. Harry could have sworn that little sparks were exploding behind her eyes.

Caelum abruptly pulled back. 

Harry opened her eyes. She felt strangely cold without his touch. “What is it?” 

“Riddle, he left,” Caelum said brusquely, looking off into the distance. “You can let go of me now.”

 _Oh, right_ , Harry thought, head still spinning. _Riddle was here. The distraction. Yes._ She unclenched her hands and dropped them from Caelum’s shoulders. His elegant robes were now hopelessly wrinkled. The sun must have set behind her, as darkness now fell over the gardens. 

He still wouldn’t meet her gaze. “We’ve gotten rid of that problem, thanks to teamwork. But you have to deal with Lord Potter on your own. I absolutely refuse.”

"Now you're developing a sense of humor?"

Caelum arched an eyebrow. "I’m not joking."

Harry whipped her head around and locked her gaze with her father, who was stalking toward them. He did not look pleased. 

“Find me later,” Caelum said, as he made a not-so-graceful retreat toward the stone stairs that led to the main ballroom. She watched him go, frowning. Hopefully, he would stay far away from Riddle. She didn’t want Caelum playing out that kind of distraction with anyone else on the dance floor.

James sent Caelum’s back a poisonous glare, before he turned to corner Harry. "What are you doing?" James hissed at her.

She put on her best innocent expression. "Just trying to enjoy the party."

“By snogging that — that _boy_ in front of everyone? Is this what you do when I’m not around?”

“No,” Harry said honestly. "And we’re well away from the crowd, here. I wouldn’t say it was ‘in front of everyone’."

James rubbed the bridge of his nose. “ _Really_ , Harry?”

“Sorry, Dad.” But, she realized with a jolt, she wasn’t sorry. Not for kissing Caelum, at least. She was sorry for so many other reasons.

“Just…” Her father looked tired, and sad, and more lost than she’d ever seen him. “This seems so sudden, Harry. We always thought you had Archie, if the law ended up passing, or you could find someone yourself. And then this damn algorithm — and evidently you’d found someone already! I hate that you felt you couldn’t tell us you were dating him until you were forced into it.”

Harry felt a familiar swoop of guilt settle in her stomach. “Dad, I really am sorry I didn’t tell you. It’s not that I didn’t trust you and Mum. I wasn’t — I didn’t want to jinx anything.”

James sighed. “I want you to be happy, Harry. You know that, right? Your mum wants that, too. And the Lestrange boy… I can’t pretend I like him, you know I’m not that good an actor, but if he makes you happy... He does, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.” The relationship they were talking about was fake, but what she was saying wasn’t a lie, and Harry realized it as soon as the words left her mouth. 

“That’s what matters,” James said, his voice serious. “I need to find your mum. Stay sharp, okay?”

She nodded. James left while she was blinking, lost in thought.

She was happy, these days, when she was with Caelum. She liked talking to him, bantering, trading quips and potions tips. He was honest to a fault, disregarding the fake politeness of the elite she rubbed shoulders with as Rigel. And of course she liked that he shared her interests, that he was _excited_ about potions the way none of her other friends were.

She’d looked for him first thing after arriving at the gala, because she wanted to be by his side. When she’d seen him there, under the balcony, everything had seemed a little lighter. He made her laugh. So what?

So Caelum was gorgeous. That wasn’t a revelation, just a fact. Plenty of people were objectively good-looking — Blaise, Rosier, Pansy, Selwyn, Sirius, Regulus, even Riddle himself. Her noticing Caelum’s aesthetic appeal didn’t mean anything. So Caelum had proved tonight to be a good kisser. She didn’t have the data to compare, but probably lots of other people were too. He’d only kissed her under duress. It didn’t mean anything.

Harry let her head fall back against the stone wall behind her, looking up at the flat underside of the library balcony. 

_Damn._

She liked Caelum. Liked him liked him, as Tracey Davis would’ve giggled. _Fancied_ him. Why him? Why now? Why had she suddenly developed such pointless feelings, which were sure to mess everything up?

Harry and Caelum both wanted the same things: their Masteries, a feature on the cover of _Potions Quarterly_ , maybe a brewing companion for the more intense potions that required two people. Getting engaged hadn’t been part of their life plans, but they’d decided to make the best of a tough situation. They had an arrangement. They had a plan. 

She couldn’t turn off her feelings, maybe, but she didn’t have to act differently because of it. No passing fancy was worth the risk. Everything could go wrong: her fragile friendship with Caelum, their engagement arrangement, the ruse itself. Harry couldn’t ruin it all. It was immaterial, anyway. Caelum was clearly uninterested in her romantically. He’d fled after their kiss like she really did carry half-blood cooties. Whatever confusing and pointless emotions were swirling around in her hormone-riddled body, they weren’t reciprocated.

Harry squared her shoulders and strode off to return to the ballroom. After all the complications she’d been through with the ruse, after Pettigrew, after the tournament… she could handle anything this gods-cursed marriage law, or Riddle himself, could throw at her.

-O-

-o-

-O-

After the gala, Harry didn’t see Caelum again for days. He didn’t owl her, either. She did her best not to let the silence bother her; she had plenty of work to do on her healer’s kit. She didn’t need to spend any of her precious time thinking about Caelum Lestrange.

She didn’t need to remember how he threw his head back laughing, and that bright, sparkling sound, and the way his blue eyes had softened when he’d smiled at Addy at Potter Place. Not his adorable frown of concentration as he’d imbued the Lumos charm into their potion. Not the heat of his hand against her lower back, the amber oakmoss of his cologne mixed with the grassy scent of the gardens, the cherry-wine taste of his mouth. 

Harry scowled down at her lunch, and determinedly struck up a conversation with her mother about charms. Lily kept shooting her concerned glances when she thought Harry wasn’t looking. 

“Was that the Floo?” Lily said, cutting off her own explanation of the protective enchantment she’d been developing.

A moment later, Caelum appeared in the kitchen doorway, wearing sapphire blue robes. Addy clapped her hands. Harry dropped her fork. 

“Lady Potter,” Caelum said. “My sincerest apologies for interrupting your meal. I’m working on a new brewing project, and I was hoping to borrow Harriet for the afternoon.”

Lily raised an eyebrow in Harry’s direction, possibly because of his uncharacteristic politeness. “I don’t see why not.” 

“I wanna come,” Addy insisted.

Lily looked surprised. She hadn’t been there for Addy’s immediate infatuation with Caelum, after all. “You can’t help them brew, sweetie.” She smiled tightly at Caelum. “Have her home in time for dinner.”

Harry left her dishes by the sink and accompanied Caelum back towards the Floo. With a wave of her hand, she shrank her potions bag and stuffed it into the pocket of her breeches. 

“Floo to Diagon,” Caelum said, and then disappeared in the green flames.

After a moment, she followed him through the Floo. They walked together out of the Leaky Cauldron into the bright afternoon sunlight. He hadn't spoken about the gala, and she didn't have the nerve to bring it up either. If he wanted to pretend nothing had happened, that was fine with her. It had to be.

"What are we brewing?" Harry asked, forcing her voice casual.

"We’re not actually brewing. That's called an excuse."

"Oh, but I was looking forward to it. Made a list of potions I wanted to brew and everything." She sighed, putting on a dejected expression.

Caelum exhaled sharply, color rising in his cheeks. "Where would we even be brewing? We just left your house, and I'm not taking you back to mine."

"But your parents would know I was there, this time."

"Exactly," he muttered. "We're going to Gringotts."

"Again? You spend an awful lot of time there. Are you secretly part-goblin? It's okay if you are," Harry assured him. "No anti-creature sentiment in the Potter family."

He almost tripped on a cobblestone. "Please don't spew nonsense at me," he said, sounding tired more than truly annoyed. "We're picking up your betrothal ring, suitably de-cursed and replaced, and my father asked me to retrieve some other items while I'm in our vault."

Harry batted her eyelashes and gave him a coy look, one she’d learned from Rispah. "It's 'our' vault now? We haven't even said our vows yet, Caelum. I know you're excited, but you're getting ahead of yourself."

He spluttered. "Our vault — my family's vault, the Lestrange vault. It made sense in context. You're just trying to rile me up."

"Is it working?" she teased.

Caelum heaved a sigh, but a smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. “Someday you’ll get bored of this, won’t you?”

“Never,” Harry said. It came out more fervently than she’d intended. She looked away from the blue of his eyes, pretending to be interested in the windows of the stores they passed while she willed the heat in her cheeks to subside. 

_Stop it,_ she told herself. _Not worth the risk, remember. Put those unrequited feelings back where they came from._

He didn’t say anything to her as they entered Gringotts. As he showed the goblin at the counter his key, she could have sworn the goblin was eyeing her with disapproval. Maybe it was her simple outfit of a tunic and breeches, more suited for the Lower Alleys than visiting the vault of one of the oldest, richest families in magical Britain. Caelum always looked far more put together than she did — except for that one time she’d snuck into his bedroom.

This time, she climbed into the front of the cart, with Caelum behind her. Maybe being near the front would help her avoid the sickening feeling of being trapped deep underground.

The cart careened around a corner, faster and faster. Had the carts always been so speedy? As the cart reached the top of a bump, poised to barrel down a steep incline, she heard the rumble of Caelum’s voice behind her.

“I can’t hear you!” she shouted over the clacking of the cart.

Harry dared to look back at him. He was mouthing something. Then, as she watched his face, his eyes went wild. He reached a hand out to grab her shoulder as she swung her head back towards the front.

Harry gasped from the shock of cold liquid like tiny daggers on her face, from the sickening jolt of the cart slamming to a stop.

She tumbled out of the cart onto the damp dirt of the caverns. Her vision blurred. Harry dimly registered Caelum shouting her name — “Harry!” — and the goblin growling something in Gobbledegook. It felt like she’d swallowed a den of snakes, stabbing pains in her belly.

The Polyjuice, the Modified Polyjuice she’d taken only last month, was gone. 

There was nowhere to run, the dimly lit caverns twisting in a labyrinth around her. Her magic swirled uselessly in her core. She hadn’t seen the waterfall, hadn’t shielded against it. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. Hadn’t she once heard that in the depths of Gringotts, the goblins used a waterfall of potion to protect the oldest vaults from infiltrators? A potion that dissolved glamours, illusions… and Polyjuice. 

There did not exist an explanation for Harry Potter taking Polyjuice to look like Rigel Black’s twin that wasn’t damning. But what could she do? Stun them and flee? Gringotts was thick with enchantments and wards, so she couldn't Apparate or use her emergency Portkey. Even if she could escape on foot, they would still remember what they'd seen. She didn’t know how to cast a memory charm. She didn’t know if goblins could be Obliviated at all.

Harry looked up at Caelum through the plain lenses of her glasses, blinking rapidly. The blurry lines of his figure wavered and solidified as he stepped closer.

“Mr. Lestrange, do you wish to deal with the imposter yourself? We do charge a fee to invoke Gringotts security when the situation involves a companion." The goblin’s voice was monotone.

“Leave us,” Caelum said coolly. 

“That won’t be possible. Gringotts policy—”

“Escort us to my vault, then, goblin,” Caelum snapped. “I require some time to examine my possessions without oversight.”

He reached out a hand to Harry. She took it. He pulled her to her feet, grip firm and steady. 

Harry stumbled behind Caelum and the goblin to the Lestrange vault entrance, the hems of her trousers dragging on the ground. After the goblin stroked his fingers down the great door to the vault, the two of them entered. The door closed behind them with an ominous grinding noise. They were alone.

Piles of gold, antiques, and treasure blurred as she blinked, glowing in the light from the lamps above. It was silent, except for the dripping of their clothes on the vault floor. She tried to tell herself that the wet drops sliding down her cheeks were from the potion, too.

Caelum wasn’t facing her. He walked over to the jewelry case that they’d looked through the other day. 

“The ring looks good,” he said.

“What?” Her own voice sounded terrible, tight and sniffly.

He turned, then. From across the vault, his face was a blur of pale skin above the darkness of his robes. He came back towards her again.

“The ring,” Caelum repeated. He held the betrothal ring she’d picked, glittering in the lamplight. His great-great-grandmother’s ring. Caelum took her clammy, shaking hand and slid the ring onto her finger.

“I don’t understand,” Harry said.

He reached up and wiped a tear from her face, too gently, like she was a mimosa flower he didn’t want to crush before the Amortentia reached the second stage. His thumb slid down her cheek to her chin. “Was it a potion or a spell?”

“Why?”

Caelum frowned. “If it was a potion, we won’t be able to rebrew it in here. The only cauldron in our vault is a decorative one, made of polished jade. My parents never took much stock in potions, and they sold off most of the heritage equipment." 

“Why are you helping me?” Harry whispered.

His hand dropped down to trace the outline of the ring on her finger. “We agreed, didn’t we? You’re going to be my wife. There’s something about ‘for better, for worse’ — I’ve been to enough agonizing bonding ceremonies to remember that much.” 

“We're not married yet,” she said. “And you never agreed to _this_.”

“No.” Caelum shook his head. “I admit I underestimated the sheer amount of shit you could get yourself into. Potion or spell?”

“Potion. But I know a spell that will work for the time being.” There was always the glamour she’d used at the end of her third year. 

He nodded a few times, still frowning. There was silence for a moment.

“You’re not going to ask me?” Harry prodded.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me _why_ ,” she elaborated, even though it was obvious. “Ask me why I was under Polyjuice. No questions there? Nothing?”

“Polyjuice?” His blue eyes flashed. “Impossible. I’ve been with you for more than an hour at a time, many times.”

“I modified it to last longer, but that’s not the point, don’t you want to know—”

“What the _fuck_? You can’t drop that into the conversation and move on!” he said. “You successfully modified the potion that dozens, if not hundreds, of Masters across the world have attempted to do the exact same thing to? Explain yourself."

“I used amber,” she admitted, “and they could have done it too, if they were prepared for it to last months instead of a few more hours. It’s not really that useful in most situations.”

He shot her a disbelieving look. “Stop. You are a freak of magic, and you know it. Don’t you dare think of brewing this new batch without me. You’re going to show me how you did it.” 

“Of course,” she sighed.

“I wasn’t going to ask, because you’re not known for giving straight answers. Remember the ‘a house-elf taught me to speak French’ debacle?”

“She _did_ ,” Harry insisted. “Which is why I use house-elf grammar in French. A humiliating realization, trust me.”

Caelum looked like he didn’t know what to do with that knowledge. “Returning to the point. You obviously want me to ask you something. How about, why were you going about with the wrong face? Like you copied Rigel Black’s, but not quite, despite the fact that you just said you used Polyjuice?”

“Yeah, that's the question I was expecting,” she said.

“But will you answer it?" He raised his eyebrows. "Why the charade? It isn’t to improve your looks.”

“How do you know it’s not? Maybe I wanted to look more pureblooded.”

Redness bloomed in his cheeks. “Please. No one who looks like you do would change their appearance unless they had a damn good reason.”

“Was that a compliment?"

“I have eyes," he said defensively.

“You didn’t like the face I had before.”

“I never said that.”

"Yes, you did," Harry said indignantly. " _Multiple_ times. You said I was the ugliest girl you’d ever seen!" 

He looked even more flustered. "Well, maybe I — It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t even your real face."

"And my real face is pretty, huh?" 

"Don't pretend you don't know," Caelum retorted. "False modesty is boring."

Harry bit her lip against a smile, despite everything. “I haven’t seen my face in a while, so it’s not false. I don’t know what I look like.”

He stared. Then, without another word, he snatched up a silver hand mirror from the top of a trunk and thrust it at her. She held it up to look, trusting that Caelum wouldn’t have handed it to her if it was cursed.

She’d definitely aged from the last time she’d seen her true face, when her Polyjuice had run out third year. Now she was at least sixteen, and she looked it. Harry resembled Lily more than ever. Her face was rounder and her cheeks softer, undeniably feminine. The green contacts dimmed the glow of her natural eyes only slightly. They still looked eerily bright. She wouldn’t have called her real face pretty, but who was she to argue with an impartial observer?

Harry didn’t need a mirror to know that the rest of her body had changed along with her face. Her tunic and trousers, once comfortably loose, hugged her too tightly in various areas. A glance down made it clear. While she was still in excellent shape from regular exercise, her un-Polyjuiced shape was beginning to resemble Rispah’s more than Archie’s. She wondered if that would be a problem for the glamour, which focused on visual output rather than tactile. It wouldn’t stop her from hip-checking furniture with this unfamiliar shape.

“Interesting,” she said aloud.

“Well, don’t get vain.”

She raised an eyebrow, putting down the mirror. “Coming from you?”

“It’s not vanity. I have a realistic awareness of my own appearance,” he said loftily. “Don’t think I've forgotten that you never answered my question.”

“I will,” she said, decisively. 

Caelum hadn’t turned her in to the goblins; he hadn’t pulled his wand on her when she was revealed as an imposter. Instead, he had taken her hand, taken her to safety and privacy. He’d put his family's ring on her finger. He hadn’t demanded an explanation, not until she’d brought it up herself. He’d proved himself trustworthy — he deserved the truth, or as much as the truth as she could give.

“You will?” Caelum prompted.

“I don’t think now is the best time. It’s a very long story. But I _will_ tell you. I will. I trust you.”

At her last sentence, he took a sharp breath and a step back. His blue eyes widened.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

Caelum shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

Harry eyed him skeptically. “Okay. Let me cast the glamour, then, and we can get out of here.”

“Let me get what my father asked for, first,” he said, turning away. His blurry figure flitted between piles of treasure on the other side of the vault.

“Do you think the goblins are bound by some sort of confidentiality clause?” she called over to him.

“Who cares? No one would take the goblin’s word over the Lestrange _and_ Potter Heirs, even if it did try to talk.”

“We really need to work on your respect for other magical species,” Harry sighed. “I don’t get it. Why would they use that potion? Last time, we got to the vault with no problem.”

Caelum made his way back over to her, holding a leather bag. “They only use additional security measures if they suspect a breach. But I don’t know… my father asked me to come today, and it’s not a stretch to assume you’d accompany me to pick up the ring. I suppose he must have suspected something.”

Harry shook her head. “More likely, Riddle is the one who’s suspicious,” she said unhappily. 

“In that case, we need to look into that confidentiality clause for sure.”

She nodded in agreement as she pulled out her wand and prepared to cast the glamour. The summer before, she’d been able to keep the glamour up for a month while she brewed a new version of the Modified Polyjuice Potion. It was harder to cast without a clear image, when she’d lived only a month in the newest morphed version of Rigel Black, but she did her best to conjure a picture in her mind’s eye. 

“Wait.” Caelum was standing very close.

Her wand paused. She looked at him quizzically. “Wait for what?”

“Before you put on that illusion again, I want…” He swallowed. “I want to kiss you.”

“But no one is watching.” Harry tilted her head in confusion. 

Caelum put a hand over his eyes. “It is a herculean effort not to call you an idiot right now. You might be a genius, Harry, but your observational skills are appalling.”

“What do you mean?”

“You — you—” He lowered his hand and met her gaze. “Mordred damn it. I don't want to kiss you just to give a symbolic ‘fuck you’ to Riddle or Rigel Black. I want to because _I want to."_

Her heart skipped a beat. “I don't know if that's what symbolism is," she said, voice faint. 

“Nobody cares what symbolism is!” 

"That's not true—" Harry began. 

"Whatever. Cast your stupid spell and let's leave," Caelum said harshly. "You clearly would like to be done here.”

"That's not true," she said, more softly. “But I’m confused. At the gala, you didn’t want to kiss me. And last time we were here, you wouldn’t even say you respected me. I don’t understand why you'd change your mind.”

Caelum gave a sharp little laugh. “Is that what you think? You think I didn’t want you before? _Fuck,_ Harry. Our first trip to Gringotts, when we were picking out rings and you asked me that question — it was so obvious. The ring. Everything. It was all suddenly so fucking, stupidly clear. That I _did_ respect you. That I wanted to be with you.

"And I hated myself for wanting it,” he went on, “when all you wanted was to brew potions without some idiot interrupting! And I hated myself again for kissing you like I meant it, when you were only trying to trick Riddle. And I hated myself for a million other reasons. But I don’t give a fuck anymore about what anyone has to say, or my family’s legacy, or your little disguise, because I want you. Because the algorithm didn’t make a mistake. Because even if the law was repealed, even if there never existed a law at all… I’d want you to be my wife. My wife—" 

Harry cut off his frantic speech with a hard, desperate kiss. 

He gasped into her mouth, almost a sob. His arms went around her, the embrace painfully tight, but she only wanted him to hold her closer. Their kiss when she was Harry, at the gala, had been so very different to when she was kissed by Draco as Rigel at Hogwarts. A kiss when she was _herself,_ with her real face, with the specter of the truth raw and haunting between them — it was incomparable.

Even the sensations were different. Her lips were fuller, and the feel of her own body, pressed against his, was different too. It was cold this far underground, even if she hadn’t been attacked by a waterfall. But that wasn’t the reason she was shivering.

“Look at you. You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured, caressing the curve of her waist. His touch burned hot through the clingy, wet fabric of her tunic. “If they knew, they’d never let us marry. It’s not fair for everyone else. It was already unfair to match our brilliance.”

“Since when do you care about fairness?” Harry laughed.

Caelum kissed her again in the middle of her laugh. She kissed him back, fiercely, as they stumbled into an antique bench. 

He rested his forehead against hers. “You said you trusted me.”

“I do.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Caelum said, quietly, reverently. “I’m going to be on your side, no matter what. Because I trust you too. I do. I do."

That was all she needed him to say. 


End file.
